Nice Cardigan
by puddii
Summary: A few months ago, amongst the blood and the crying, Isaac's arms found their way around Lydia's body. Lydia's arms found their way around his neck. He found comfort in those arms and so did she. Lysaac


_Woooooow it's been a long time since I posted here! But wow, okay, so I am madly in love with Lysaac, so I had to write this because sjdfhd yeah! I hope you guys like it? It probably isn't very good, I haven't written in awhile, but, yeah! Enjoy!_

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The locker door swung open carelessly, hitting its neighbour with a metallic thud. The people in the hall moved around noisily, talking of the latest scandal, recent tests and of course, the recent murders happening around their quiet town. Lydia was distant from all of this, however, as she applied her lip-gloss with expert precision, making her full lips pop. She smirked at the reflection in the mirror, smoothed out her hair and reassured herself with the words "_you're still perfect_." She felt like she needed to do this lately, since everything else in her world was very imperfect. A girl couldn't really catch a break in Beacon Hills, no matter how hard she tried. From being bit by a murderous Lycanthrope, to being brain washed into reviving said murderous Lycanthrope; not to mention saving her best friend's ex-boyfriend and ex-boyfriend's best friend from blowing themselves up. And who could forget _that_ night. She stopped in her motions, placing her makeup bag back into her locker, a distant look glazing over Lydia's eyes.  
"Boyd…" she murmured softly, voice lost amongst the roaring noise of normal teenagers in an almost normal town. Her eyes closed and the images flashed across her eyelids, vivid as if it had happened yesterday, not a few months ago. The drip of water echoed around her head, the screams and cries and the boy's final words. Her finger tips clung to the safety of the wall, that wall that couldn't be harmed the way a person's life could. It was cold and it didn't feel a thing. Lydia hardly knew Boyd, she never really spoke to him much at all in her life, but seeing him be impaled, watching the emotions on Derek's face, Cora's screams and Stiles' comforting hand… she wanted to be the wall. She didn't want to feel a thing. The bell rang, and Lydia was taken from her thoughts and dropped back into the halls of Beacon Hills' High School.

The halls cleared quickly, only the stragglers and her left behind, but soon they cleared away too. She had study hall; there was no need to rush. She slammed the door, the clang it made echoed and she stiffened at what the door revealed. Isaac Lahey.  
At one point in her life, Lydia would have dreaded to see Isaac's face in the halls, let alone have him standing within a meter of her. She had basically told him "never in his dreams" would she date him in Freshman year, when he was awkward and shy, when he would come to school with bruises and cuts always with an excuse of how he got them and always another rumour trailing behind him. In fact, it wasn't until recently that Lydia actually did tolerate his existence near her, and considering he tried to poison and kill her on numerous occasions, he should be lucky she even considered it. Now, however, she felt at ease with the tall boy around, maybe it was because he was Scott and Stiles' friend. Maybe it was because he finally got some confidence and stopped walking with his shoulders hunched and head down, avoiding the eyes around him. It could have been any of these things, but it wasn't.  
A few months ago, amongst the blood and the crying, Isaac's arms found their way around Lydia's body. Lydia's arms found their way around his neck. He found comfort in those arms and so did she.

"Shouldn't _you_ be in class?" She asked, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows at him, accusing him. They never spoke at school; this was the deal. His lips curled into a perfect smirk and he leant against the locker, knowing full well he was breaking the rules.  
"I thought we could _talk_…" He said, leaning closer, brushing his lips against hers gently. Lydia pulled away from him immediately, creating distance between the two.  
She narrowed her eyes at him, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes and smacking her lips once. "We had an agreement." She stated, voice even and cold, not about to crack before him. She would remain in control of this situation.  
He scoffed, closing the distance again, his hands on her hips and pulling her flush against his chest, murmuring just loud enough for her to hear; "Rules were made to be broken…"  
One hand left her hip to brush her red hair away from her neck and the next thing she knew, his lips were firmly planted on her neck and jawline. Lydia would have liked to say that pushing Isaac away was easy, that it was a natural reflex, a voluntary, automatic response to the intrusion, except it wasn't. She put a hand on his chest and pushed him away, pulling her bag strap higher onto her shoulder. "Lydia… there is no one around…" He huffed, pushing a hand through his hair, a hurt look in his eyes. This was hard enough for him already and Lydia was not making this any easier.

A few months ago, Isaac found comfort in Lydia after the death of his pack mate. One month ago, Lydia found comfort in Isaac after the loss of half her sanity. They had decided to see each other, use each other for a distraction from their problems, an outlet for their loneliness and their pain. Yet, somewhere amongst the casual sex and naked cuddle sessions, they seemed to forget what they were using each other for. Somewhere along the line, they found a connection. Neither could pick a certain point where it had happened, they just knew it had.  
Lydia made Isaac a deal; they could "date" but no one could know. It was a cruel thing to do, make their relationship a secret, but Lydia had only just regained part of her lost social status and she was determined to keep it. For a while, Isaac was fine with it. They would meet after school and watch movies together, study together, sleep together until the morning sun spilled through the windows of her room, but as time went on, he became less satisfied with these few moments. The first time he mentioned making a change in the rules was when he gave her his cardigan to wear, he asked her to wear it to school the next day; Lydia showed up without the cardigan and, to the innocent bystander, not a care for Isaac.

Lydia shook her head at him. "We've talked about this, Isaac. I made it clear when we started datin-" he cut her off with an angry scoff and a sneer.  
"_Dating?_" He repeated, hands balling into fists at his side. His voice dropped low and he shook his head, face scrunched in annoyance. "This isn't _dating_, Lydia. This is like a _love affair_ without the suspicious husband." He lifted his hand and banged it against a locker, making her jump and step back in fright. "I don't want to be your boy toy anymore. I want to be your actual boyfriend… I'm sick of this shit."  
Isaac turned on his heels, storming off down the hall. Lydia's heart beat hard against her rib cage, she found herself walking against her will, heels clicking against the tiles. The sound quickened and she realized she was half sprinting to catch up with him.  
Her hand caught his and she pulled him back, turning him to face her. Without a second thought, she reached up, a hand on his cheek and one against the back of his neck, fingers curling into the soft, short curls at the nape of his neck. She tugged him down and kissed him. His lips were soft and familiar against hers, her thumb ran over his cheek and it felt like their first kiss, the one that started it all. His hands found her waist and pulled her up closer, kissing her back. She could feel him smirk, or maybe it was a small smile.  
Soon, Lydia broke the kiss with her forehead pressed against his. "Please don't go."

As Lydia arrived at school the next day, she was greeted at her locker by the Isaac, the same smirk as yesterday plastered to his face. She beamed up at him, a bright smile on her face. Her finger tips reached out and touched the tips of his, before slipping between his and squeezing tight.  
"Funny," he began, stepping closer, tilting his head to the side, "I could have sworn I've seen that cardigan somewhere before."


End file.
